


a light in the dark

by the1oo (divineauthor)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 6x13, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anomaly (The 100 (TV)), F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hands, Mutual Pining, POV Clarke Griffin, Parallel Universes, Reunions, Sanctum (The 100), Tenderness, The 100 (TV) Season 4, The 100 (TV) Season 6, The 100 (TV) Season 7, Time Travel, everyone shows up a little in the fic but im too lazy to tag, i would just like to preface this by saying: fuck you jason.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26804725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divineauthor/pseuds/the1oo
Summary: “I’m sorry,” Bellamy says as he steps inside.Clarke raises her brows. “What for?”“That I’m here instead of him.”The words strike at her heart. She shakes her head. “Not your fault,” she repeats, echoing her words from earlier. “And you know, I don’t mind that you’re here. You’re my best friend. Alternate worlds and timelines be damned. I know you.”—•—The Anomaly swallows Bellamy whole and spits back out a different Bellamy: Bellamy from before Praimfaya.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 62
Kudos: 426





	a light in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> aka the fic in which i say s4 and s6 bellarke have the most rights
> 
> title from: niall horan’s “flicker”

It is a testament to humanity of their ability to cope, to not collapse under the weight of all the pain and agony life shoves under them. But Clarke is not made to bear the weight she holds. Not forever, not for this long. Not without a spark of hope, just enough to believe that it will feed the flame to light the way out.

For six years—more if she’s being honest with herself—Bellamy was her spark. God, he was the whole damn sun. Clarke’s hand stills over her drawing as she thinks, _He still is_. It should terrify her, how much power the mere thought of him gives her, but she can never be scared of him.

But hope burns. It tears through skin, leaving scars that will never heal. The tinier the flame, the less of an impact. It’s a wonder Clarke still stands here relatively unharmed. The heat of the sun should’ve killed her ages ago.

She finishes her piece with a slow stroke, hating the way she drew Bellamy’s eyes. Six years and she can never get it right. His eyes are too expressive to capture on paper. She sighs and shoves it away, tucking an errant strand of hair from her face.

Miller slams through her door, a little breathless. Clarke’s hand automatically reaches for her hip, where her gun usually lays, but she’s long since placed it on the side table. Miller’s body screams panic and it sets her nerves alight. She immediately asks, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s—it’s Bellamy.”

Clarke tenses. She exhales harshly and grabs her jacket, slinging it over her shoulders. She pockets her gun and lets Miller guide her. She can’t panic. Not when Bellamy needs her.

“Details,” she orders, curt. “Now.”

Miller’s lips thin. “He’s… he’s okay. Physically, I mean. I think. I’m not really sure actually.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Clarke’s heart races in her chest. They cross over to another building and she spots her people huddled up to someone. Bellamy, most likely. But the crowd parts slightly and she catches a glimpse of who’s in the middle of all the attention and she stops in her tracks. Her tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth. Dry. “Oh.”

Miller chokes out a laugh, almost unbelieving. She wouldn’t believe it either if she wasn’t staring at the impossible right in front of her. “Yeah.”

Bellamy’s eyes catch hers over the crowd and he mouths out something. Her name. _Clarke._

She swears she can hear it over the commotion. Maybe she does because they all part, making way for her to meet him. Clarke’s legs move on their own accord. About a few feet away, Bellamy grins. Young and bright and, God, it hurts to look at him. “Hey, princess.”

“Bellamy,” she breathes out, her arms reaching out for his, unthinking. He steps into her space and molds her into his body like it’s second nature. She clutches at his shoulders. He’s warm and he’s safe and he’s—

Clarke leans back, touching his clean-shaven cheek. He’s so _young_ , this Bellamy. If she’s to place him, she’ll bet on just before Praimfaya. “Bellamy, what…”

“I don’t know,” he answers. “There was this green… flame? Light? It came towards me and I just appeared here.”

The Anomaly. Clarke blinks.

“Where’s my Bellamy?” she asks.

“Your Bellamy?” He raises an eyebrow. He has this stupid smirk on his mouth that she desperately wants to kiss, but she resists.

Clarke fumbles though her words, stepping back. “Not _my_ Bellamy”—she can’t help but glance at Echo who’s glowering at the entire display—“I mean our Bellamy. From this time.”

Bellamy’s face softens and he looks apologetic. “I don’t know.”

Clarke’s world halts. “You don’t _know_?”

“I’m not exactly the expert here, princess.” He crosses his arms. “Like I said, I just crash-landed on this planet.”

Panic seeps through her skin. She turns and looks for Gabriel, who’s been on the outskirts of the group. “Gabriel, do you—is he—where is he?”

“If I had to wager a guess, Bellamy’s probably stuck in the past. But that’s still just a guess. No one really knows how the Anomaly works.” Gabriel shoots her a look, but she just closes her eyes. Her heart reaches out for him, for _her_ Bellamy. She would never wish a repeat of the past they had on anyone, least of all him. He’s had a few too many regrets.

“Is it really all that bad?” Bellamy asks. Clarke opens her eyes and stares, unseeing, into the crowd.

“We’re on a new planet, Bellamy.” Raven chuckles, a little too harsh. “Three guesses as to why.”

Bellamy grimaces.

Clarke interrupts, looking at Gabriel again. “How do we get him back?”

“Sick of me already?” Bellamy teases.

She rolls her eyes, placing her hand on his forearm, and squeezes it lightly. “Never,” she admits. An array of emotions flit across his face but before she can decipher them, Gabriel coughs.

“I’m not sure. I’ve studied it for centuries and I barely understand how it works,” Gabriel says. He scratches the bottom of his chin. “Usually, everyone who goes in never comes back out. The only person who went into the Anomaly and came back is Octavia.”

At the sound of her name, Gabriel holds all of Bellamy’s attention. “Octavia? Where is she?” Quintessential Bellamy Blake behavior. Dropped into the unknown and he still worries about his sister.

“She’s outside Sanctum borders.”

“Why?” Bellamy tenses underneath her hand and she quickly squeezes him again. He loses some of that stiff posture, so she’ll call that a win.

Gabriel’s eyes flick over to hers and the others, watching their expressions. “I was under the impression that you—that the _other_ Bellamy told her to stay away.”

“For good reason,” Miller mutters, scowling, and Jackson tugs on him.

The divot between Bellamy’s brows deepens. “I need to see her.”

Clarke wants so desperately to shield Bellamy from the truth. From sparing him news that’ll break his image of his little sister in two. But it wouldn’t be fair. None of this is. Her Bellamy is stuck reliving a hell he can’t escape and this Bellamy is buried under the weight of a past he’s not meant to have yet.

 _For once_ , Clarke asks the world, _just once: let him rest, let him be happy_. But the world is unforgiving to the most undeserving of people.

“I don’t think that’s wise—” Jackson butts in, but Clarke shakes her head. Octavia’s been… different since she left the Anomaly. The rage in her eyes has faded and there’s a softness to her that Clarke hasn’t seen since their first day on Earth. She wonders what happened to her, wonders if she went back in time, or if something completely different occurred.

“No, we need to figure out how to get Bellamy back,” Clarke says, her mind rifling through the hundreds of possibilities of what Octavia might have gone through. “Gabriel, get Octavia and meet us at the tavern in half an hour. Quickly, if you can.”

Gabriel just nods and heads back out.

“Still ordering us around, I see,” Raven snarks underneath her breath. But Clarke hears it and lets it slide off of her like water. She has more important things to worry about. Bellamy, on the other hand, stops and throws Raven a look. Everyone else shuffles back to the tavern, leaving them behind.

“What did Octavia do?” Bellamy asks.

Clarke sighs. “It’s… it’s honestly too much to cover. She won the conclave and led the bunker for all those years, but…”

Bellamy doesn’t say anything, but Clarke can see his jaw clenched.

“She became Blodreina,” Clarke explains, “and the power went to her head. Bellamy… she did a lot of horrible things.”

Bellamy’s eyes shut tight and he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“Not your fault.” He opens his eyes and gives her a stiff shrug. “Tell me something good. There must’ve been something.”

There’s a deep, almost desperate quality to his demand that twists her lips into a small frown. Bellamy settles into his skin once more and sighs. He adds, “Just… anything. I don’t know. Like your hair.” Bellamy’s hands come up and he twines a lock of her hair around his finger. “It’s shorter.”

Clarke can’t breathe. He’s so close and he’s got on that smile that he reserves only for her and the dirt beneath her feet seems to disappear. How her hair ever constitutes as something newsworthy and good escapes her. But the way Bellamy’s gaze tracks her hair down to her bare neck, darts up to her lips, then back up to her eyes—it makes her shy, _he_ makes her shy. A feeling she’s long since outgrown. It feels new in her chest and her skin buzzes near him.

“It’s pretty,” he whispers, an afterthought. He’s probably unaware that she is actively going insane by his proximity. This is a scene straight out of one of her dreams or hallucinations. Better, actually, because he’s real.

“Easier to take care of,” she rasps out. Clarke clears her throat. “After Praimfaya.”

“We survived.” He smiles, relieved.

Clarke thinks of those first few lonely months alone, of the metal gun burning in her hands and against her temple. She tells him nothing of that. Instead, she shoots him a shaky smile. “I guess we did.”

“Clarke?” Madi says behind her. She turns around and spots Madi, sleep lines crossing her face, rubbing her eyes. “Jordan told me you’re here.”

“Madi—” she begins, but Madi’s gaze falls over to Bellamy.

“Did you shave?” Madi asks him, wrinkling her nose. “And get a haircut?”

Bellamy, who already steps in beside Clarke, automatically reaches up and touches his bare face. He frowns. “He had a beard?”

Clarke shrugs. She likes it, likes the way it makes him a little more rugged, more refined. Not that it matters. He’s not exactly hers to want. She tells him, “Six years is a long time.” She looks at Madi again and tries to find the words to explain everything. “Madi, this isn’t… the Bellamy you know. He’s Bellamy from before Praimfaya.”

“What?” Her eyes widen.

“The Anomaly—it sent Bellamy through time.” Even though the proof of it stands right next to her, it still sounds crazy when she says it aloud.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy answers her, giving Madi a soft grin. “It’s nice to meet you, Madi.”

Madi steps forward and purses her lips. She looks Bellamy up and down and Clarke has to stifle a laugh at the confused expression that crosses Bellamy’s face. Whatever Madi finds is acceptable and she wraps her arms around his middle. His arms come up and he hugs her back. She breaks the embrace and smiles up at him.

Bellamy’s eyes are soft. Clarke can’t believe she almost forgot how he is with kids. He’s the picture-perfect definition of a gentle older brother, caring and overflowing with it. Putting the Flame in Madi erased the kindness he has always shown them in her mind. Well, she backtracks, _almost_ erased.

Madi pulls him towards the tavern as she speaks, “Clarke told me a lot about you, you know. She found me a few months after Praimfaya. Took me in. I always asked for stories and she always told me about you. And the hundred.”

Clarke slows her steps, content to watch them talk.

“Must’ve been some sad story,” he comments.

“Not really. It’s got some good parts to it,” Madi says, knowing. “You’re the hero in a lot of them.”

Bellamy sounds incredulous. “Me?”

“Of course.” Madi opens up the door and the noise in the tavern drags to a stop.

“Well, if it isn’t the man of the hour,” Murphy drawls, raising his cup towards him in mock celebration. “What were you two up to out there?”

Emori elbows him in the side and Clarke smirks at his pained grunt. Murphy backs off, but he gives Clarke a lazy salute. She just huffs and sits down next to Madi.

Bellamy leans back against a table, his arms by his sides. Clarke’s eyes roam over him unconsciously. She bites her lip and looks at his face instead, but it just makes things worse. She has always found him attractive. Bloody, bruised, clean shaved, bearded—he never fails to look handsome in her eyes. She’s biased, but not completely wrong. He nods at Murphy’s words. “Meeting Madi.”

“So how long until Gabriel comes back?” Echo asks, giving Bellamy an unrecognizable stare.

Bellamy’s eyes harden slightly. Clarke jolts. That’s right. All he knows of Echo is the harm she’s done to them. Echo wouldn’t become his girlfriend, part of his family until later. Clarke feels like a shitty human being for that spark of petty vengeance running through her.

“Twenty minutes tops,” Jordan says.

With that, they all return to their conversations. Madi joins Jordan who’s talking to Emori and Murphy. Everybody’s eyes still slide back to Bellamy’s every once and a while, but Bellamy just moves into the seat across from her. His legs are long and the table is small, so his knees knock against hers, but he doesn’t move away. Neither does she. The heat of his body against hers makes her warm inside. Her Bellamy has the same effect, of course. Why wouldn’t he? They’re the same person.

Bellamy licks his lips and Clarke’s eyes focus on the silver scar there, barely noticeable, but she had committed it to memory back on Earth. He gives her a wry grin and presses his knee closer to her. “Raised a kid, huh? It’s not easy.”

“It still isn’t,” Clarke says, snorting. “I don’t know how you managed to keep Octavia relatively sane in the Ark.”

His smile dies down a little. “Considering what she did in the bunker, I don’t think I did such a great job.”

“Bellamy, no.” She reaches out and grabs one of his hands in both of hers. “She’s an adult. Her choices do not reflect on you. It’s not your fault for what she did.”

He shrugs, looking away from her gaze down to their joined hands. She’s held his hands before, once upon a time. None were the best experiences in her life: Bellamy handcuffing her, Clarke bandaging him, holding him while she got the Flame. It’s a novel thing, holding him just because she wants to, because she can.

The Bellamy who saved her from Josephine is dating Echo and the ghost of Echo still clings to Bellamy’s skin. Every time she even thinks about getting closer, Echo’s phantom makes her shirk away.

But this Bellamy, she thinks quietly—possessively even, is _hers_.

“She’s my responsibility, Clarke,” he confesses. “Blodreina, the Red Queen, it’s a story I used to tell her. If only I—”

“Bellamy,” she interrupts, ironing out the tension in his fist, smoothing his fingers out until his palm is open and loose. A warm bubble of joy settles in her veins. Touching him like this is heavenly. She doesn’t remember the last time she’s purposefully held someone like this that wasn’t marred by adrenaline and fear and horrible memories. She lines her hand against his and marvels at the difference. They both have calluses, but his hands are brown and warm and so large that she can’t help but feel small, like he’d take her away and keep her safe from the world. “It’s not your fault. And even if it is…” Clarke breathes out, “Even if it is, I forgive you.”

Bellamy chuckles, a little wet. “I don’t deserve it.”

 _You always deserve good things, Bellamy_ , she wants to say, but she knows he’ll turn in on himself and lock himself away. So she settles with: “I forgive you anyway.”

And she does. Every Bellamy, every timeline, and every version, there’s not a single one where she can’t imagine not forgiving him. Even the Bellamy that convinced Madi to put the Flame in her head. His betrayal hurt worse than she could imagine, but she understood him, even if it was a little too late.

They hurt each other and forgive each other and they bleed and bruise and heal and fight and… and they _love_. It’s what they do. It’s what they’ve always done.

Clarke traces his heart line, his life line—tragically short. But it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t believe in that stuff anyway. She’ll keep Bellamy alive by sheer willpower if she has to. Nothing short of her own death can stop her and maybe even that can’t.

They sit in a comfortable silence. Any lingering tension fades out of Bellamy the longer she traces all his calluses and counts the stray freckles on the back of his hand. Beneath the table, Bellamy’s foot catches on hers and they stay like that, entangled in each other like it’s normal. And it feels like it is. Clarke smiles, a little sadly. She wishes she had the chance to make their affection commonplace. She wonders if this is what life would be like if they had it just a little easier, if they weren’t always two parallel lines waving at each other from across the room.

Clarke doesn’t realize how long they’ve sat like this until Gabriel walks in, Octavia in tow.

Octavia scans the tavern, spotting Bellamy quickly and she tries to hide the wobbly smile that passes her face, but Clarke catches it anyway. Bellamy hesitantly takes his hand back, almost like he doesn’t want Clarke to stop.

Everyone else stills.

“Hey, big brother,” Octavia says, eyes shining.

Bellamy’s lips twitch upward. “Hey, O.”

“Bell, I—” Octavia begins, but Bellamy stands and hugs her. Clarke watches as Octavia’s arms wrap around Bellamy.

“Should you even be calling me big brother? How old are you anyway? A hundred and something? You’re ancient.”

Octavia shoves him. “Shut up.”

Bellamy looks lighthearted and Clarke’s heart jumps to her throat. She loves him like this. Maybe her Bellamy can know soft joys like this again.

They settle down and Octavia sighs. “I went into the Anomaly to get Diyoza back. She thought she saw Hope and she just… ran into it.”

“Hope?” Bellamy asks.

“Her daughter.”

A simple, beautiful name.

“When I got swallowed up by the Anomaly, I landed on Earth and I was healed completely. I couldn’t find Diyoza anywhere, so I stayed low. I’m pretty sure I landed a few years before the Ark came down,” Octavia says. “I was there for years. Four, actually. I tried to find my way back for the first year, but there’s _nothing_. I settled down. Grew up.” Octavia huffs out a quiet laugh, looking down. “I found Lincoln again. Didn’t stay, but… he helped me set up my home. Then, the Anomaly just appeared one day and I walked through it again and found myself back on Sanctum.”

Gabriel bites at his thumb, his face scrunched up. “That makes no sense.”

“Excuse me?” Octavia arches her brow.

“No, yeah, it doesn’t,” Raven agrees, “Theoretically, if you went back in time, your presence would cause a shift. It’s either the timeline we live in now already accounts for the present, or we’re not dealing with time travel at all. Or at least, not _just_ time travel. But you said you met Lincoln, right? Wouldn’t that mean he already knew you when he met you back when you first landed on the ground? But he didn’t know you, so the Anomaly isn’t just time-bending. Otherwise, things would be different.”

“What do you mean?” Jordan asks, behind her.

“The Anomaly isn’t just a… a glimpse into the past. It takes you to parallel worlds.”

That leaves them all silent. Clarke manages to unlock her jaw and breathe correctly. Parallel worlds. That would mean anything her Bellamy does, wherever he is, affects _this_ Bellamy. Her head pounds awfully in her skull. Clarke can’t believe that mere days ago, body snatchers were her biggest problem.

“But,” Bellamy says, his elbows against his knees, “then why am _I_ here?”

That stumps Raven. Octavia just lifts her shoulder.

“No, wait, Bellamy,” Clarke says, remembering his words from earlier. “You said you _saw_ the Anomaly. Did you walk into it?”

Bellamy frowns, trying to remember. “I didn’t walk _into_ it. It’s more like it engulfed me.”

“Maybe that’s why you two switched,” Gabriel interjects.

“But we still don’t know how to get him back.” Clarke turns to Bellamy. “Or get you back home.”

Bellamy could be stuck there for years. Maybe no time would pass for her, but she’s already had enough time away from him. How long is it going to take until the universe stops pulling them apart? She just wants her best friend with her. Not that this Bellamy isn’t her best friend, but… there’s a gap between them. Missing information. A ripped chapter out of their own book.

The moment she finally thinks they’re on the same page, the universe decides to play with them again.

“Do you remember anything about coming back? The day it happened—anything?” Clarke asks weakly. Bellamy leans back and hooks their feet together again, a silent, comforting gesture. She slumps in her chair a little.

Octavia frowns. “It was just a normal day. Really peaceful actually. I went out and hunted for game. Nothing exciting. Sorry. I know this isn’t much help.”

“It’s fine,” Clarke lies. They all wait for her to say something, but she’s just _tired_. It was already dark out when Miller came to her room. She has no energy to carry on through the night. “We should all get some rest. It’s getting late.”

Murphy spares her an inquisitive look, but Clarke ignores him. She knows what Murphy’s thinking. How can she leave their Bellamy out there in a different world? She doesn’t know, actually. She takes it day by day and hour by hour. Bellamy’s smart. He can take care of himself.

The rest seem amiable enough to the suggestion, so they all head off to their rooms. They spare glances at Bellamy on the way out. Octavia stands there awkwardly before she turns to leave.

“Octavia.” Clarke bites her lip, then offers, “There’s a few rooms free next to mine. You don’t have to leave.”

“No one wants to sleep near the mighty Wanheda?” Octavia retorts, smiling a little. It’s not exactly a lie. People don’t like to be near her more than necessary. Except Bellamy. But he is always the exception.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “You staying or not?”

“Sure,” she agrees. Clarke stands up, as does Bellamy. Mirror images, they are.

The walk back to the other building is short. She shows Octavia her room which is across from hers. Madi insisted on having her own room, so Clarke gave Madi the room on her right. Before she situates Bellamy, she checks in on Madi to make sure she’s okay. It's a habit.

Clarke leans down and kisses her forehead. “Night, Madi.”

“Night, Clarke.”

When she turns around, Bellamy is leaning against the doorway, watching her with soft eyes. He doesn’t move, so she slips through the crack in the doorway and the space between Bellamy’s body before she walks over to the last empty room.

“I’m sorry,” Bellamy says as he steps inside.

Clarke raises her brows. “What for?”

“That I’m here instead of him.”

The words strike at her heart. She shakes her head. “Not your fault,” she repeats, echoing her words from earlier. “And you know, I don’t mind that you’re here. You’re my best friend. Alternate worlds and timelines be damned. I _know_ you.”

Bellamy smiles and she feels warm all over. “I’ll see you in the morning, Clarke.”

She wants to reach out again, to hold him again, but Clarke can’t tempt the universe this time. She has held this Bellamy today more than she has with her own Bellamy. In all their time spent together today, there’s a distant part of her that’s scared if she pushes her luck with this younger version of her best friend that he’ll leave too. Willingly or not. So she just glances at the floor, breaking their gaze. “Goodnight, Bellamy.”

Clarke turns back and heads towards her room. She doesn’t hear his door click shut until she steps inside. A breath escapes her lungs. Perfunctorily, she gets ready for bed, not even bothering to change her clothes. She just collapses onto the mattress and tugs the covers over herself.

Images of Bellamy flash in her mind. _Her_ Bellamy. The feel of his arms around her, fuller and wider. His eyes pinning her down, making her ache with want. The scratch of his beard against her neck. Her hand chases the ghost of his touch and all she can do is sigh. Years of being in love with him still don’t make this yearning any less unbearable.

Her last thought before the solid weight of her blanket lulls her to sleep is: _I miss you already._

* * *

* * *

Waking up is less of a chore the next morning. Usually, Madi or someone else would come and knock on her door with more news on what’s happening on Sanctum for the day and she always has to find a way to keep it from descending into chaos. But she wakes up later than usual. Weirdly late, actually.

The two suns are already high up in the sky when she peeks outside her window. The bustle of people already tells her it’s almost noon. Clarke gets ready quickly. A simple shower, a fresh change of clothes, and out the door she goes.

The logical part of her tells her that Madi and Bellamy have already left, but she still checks in on their rooms to be sure. Empty, of course. It doesn’t take long to find them. Madi’s been hanging around the Sanctum kids a lot more now that the Flame is gone. But Bellamy…

Bellamy wipes a trail of sweat from his forehead and laughs at whatever Miller has just said. The two suns press down on him, making his light brown skin glisten golden. Clarke can’t look away. He’s glowing bright and she is blinded.

Her feet carry her over to him and he slaps Miller on the shoulder before shoving him away, grinning. Miller acquiesces and leaves. Bellamy spots her easily. “Sleep well?”

Clarke would’ve said something, teasing maybe, but her tongue sits heavy in her mouth. She nods instead.

“Ready to find out what the hell the Anomaly is up to now?” he asks, softening at the sight of her. “Octavia and Gabriel already left earlier this morning to get a head start. Raven, too.”

“Oh,” Clarke says, tilting her head slightly. “You didn’t wanna go with them?”

The tips of his ears burn pink and Clarke doesn’t know if it’s because of the heat or something else entirely. He looks down, shifting his weight a little. “It’s not that, I, uh—” he begins, but stops. He clears his throat and starts again, gentler this time, like a confession, “I stayed for you.”

_I stayed for you._

For the first time since she’s seen him today, she looks away. These are the words she had dreamed of in the haze of Praimfaya when all she had was her burns and the unbearable heat out in the sand. Those days, her mind wandered. She hallucinated Bellamy in her weakest moments (she was weak quite often) and he always said anything she needed to hear.

_Why didn’t you go with them? she asked Bellamy, her head burning as she laid there, coarse grains digging into her skin._

_Bellamy lifted his hand and pressed it against her cheek. For a moment, she could imagine that it was his touch that burned and not the heavy weight of the sun. He said simply, I stayed for you._

“Clarke?” he asks. “You okay?”

Clarke stumbles out of her memories and her eyes snap back up towards him. “I’m fine,” she says. She even believes it too. “I’m, yeah, I’m okay. Let’s go.”

“You sure?” Bellamy looks her over. “Did you even eat today?”

She hasn’t and apparently it shows on her face. “I’ll grab something to snack on while we’re going.”

“No, just eat a full breakfast, Clarke.” Bellamy rolls his eyes. “We’re not exactly experts on the science behind the Anomaly. They can wait a little bit more.”

Clarke bites her bottom lip. “Fine.” Underneath her breath, but still loud enough so he can hear, she snarks back, “Mother hen.”

Bellamy lets out a startled laugh and gently jostles his arm against her shoulder. “You’re one to talk.”

As they walk down the dirt path, their hands brush against each other. If Bellamy ever asks, she’ll blame the pinkness in her cheeks on the heat.

Clarke eats a full meal for what feels like the first time in weeks. Probably has been, actually. She can’t finish it all, so Bellamy just steals some of her leftovers and she pretends to care just so she can see that teasing glint in his eyes.

“So,” Bellamy says, finishing a piece of fruit that resembles a banana, but tastes like a mixture between a pear and a raspberry. “What exactly happened after Praimfaya?” He frowns and Clarke wants to press her fingers against that dip between his brows to lessen the tension there. But she won’t. She can’t, so she just squeezes the knife in her hand like that will abate the temptation. “I know… a lot of us didn’t make it.”

She hears the names behind his words. _Monty, Harper…_

“You, Raven, Monty, Murphy, Harper, Echo, and Emori made it up to space,” she says, praying her voice stays even. “I… there was something wrong with the satellite, so I stayed behind to fix it. I told you to go back with the others. I—I just wanted you to live. And I know that you haven’t gone through this, but I was so proud of you. Still am.”

Bellamy’s face darkens. His jaw clenches minutely, but she continues anyway.

“The Nightblood solution worked, but I got burned before I reached Becca’s lab. I recovered and I eventually went out to see the Bunker. I couldn’t get through all the rubble.” Her voice fades into a whisper, remembering it all. “I was alone for a few months and… it was rough. I tried calling you on the radio every day, but maybe the signals got jammed or something. You-you never responded. I found Madi soon after…”

“I kept trying to call you,” she says, looking down at her empty plate. “Took an extra year for you to come down, but by the time you did, a prison—”

“Clarke!” Jordan says behind her. She turns around and a gaggle of Sanctumites huddle around him, muttering angrily. He and Miller have been guarding Russell for the time being. Clarke sighs, shooting a glance at the restless group. Jordan tries to say her name again, but the crowd bursts into noise.

“We demand you release Russell Prime—”

“—it is an injustice for you to—”

“—our blessed leader, you can’t—”

“—Russell Prime is a good man—”

With those words, Clarke snaps. Standing up in a quick move, she barks out, “Hey!”

The ferocity makes them startled enough to quiet down. Clarke’s lips thin into a small smile. She has had enough of these brainwashed citizens spouting off insipid lies. Her mother _died_ because of him. She almost died. God, she was _violated_.

For all the horrors she’s done, at least she has the decency to know she’s a monster. Wanheda hides behind no mask. Death shrouds her like an unwanted lover who will never let her go, its fingers pressing bruises into her skin, seeping down to her soul.

“I’m leaving the fate of your beloved Russell Prime up to the Children of Gabriel,” Clarke says, hoping Gabriel will forgive her for thrusting this on him too, atop the Anomaly mess. “Now _leave_.”

She has no visible weapon they can see, but they all leave like she’s threatened them with a gun pointed at their heads.

“Sorry, I tried to stop them.” Jordan looks apologetic.

Clarke just nods, tired. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Is there anything else I need to know?”

 _Please say no_ , she pleads.

He purses his lips. “Actually… the Grounders wants to talk to their Heda.”

Clarke stiffens.

“I’ll—” Her voice crack, so she repeats, “I’ll go deal with them.”

Jordan nods and throws her one last sorry look before he heads back over to Miller.

Bellamy slides in next to her. The warmth of his body acts as a balm to the tension under her skin. “Guess you’ll have to finish the story later.”

“Sorry, Bellamy, I have to—”

“Solve all our problems?” he finishes, smirking. Bellamy shakes his head. “I’ll tell the others you’re a bit busy trying to prevent a war from starting. And I’ll give Gabriel a heads up about Russell when I see him.”

“Thank you,” she breathes out, her mind scrambling to figure out how to appease the Grounders without inciting civil unrest. Clarke looks up at him and tries to smile. “You can ask the others about Praimfaya.”

Bellamy looks ready to say no, but he gives her a long stare and sighs. “I bet Madi has some fun stories.”

“Oh, I bet she does.” Clarke snorts dryly.

They stay there in that moment, grinning at each other. With an ease Clarke is always surprised he has, Bellamy reaches out to settle his fingers around her wrist for a brief moment, squeezing lightly. “See you later, Clarke.”

He lets her go. A breath she doesn’t know she held leaves her chest too. “See you,” she echoes and watches him leave.

It takes her a second to get her bearings before she heads out. There’s no rest for Clarke Griffin in this world.

* * *

* * *

It goes like this for the next week: hours drag by, kicking and screaming as Clarke tries to split her time between keeping the Grounders trust intact, wondering what to do with the Children of Gabriel advocating for Russell to burn while the people of Sanctum roar back their displeasure, and figuring out what the hell to do with the Anomaly shoving an alternate version of her best friend at her.

Bellamy usually tries to hang around Clarke for the better part of the day, but he ventures out a lot. He always seems excited about scouting the land and learning about Sanctum culture—regardless of how screwed up it is. Clarke supposes that’s part of the reason why he’s so fascinated.

She never wanted to be the leader, but life has a funny way of giving you the things you never asked for.

Clarke has been talking with Indra about what to do with Wonkru now that the Flame is out of Madi’s head. She does everything she can to keep Madi out of the picture while Indra throws out the idea that Madi should keep acting as Heda for the time being to satiate them..

“No,” she says firmly. “I’ve told you this. Madi is off limits.”

Indra’s eyes harden. “They need a leader—”

“Well, then why don’t you be theirs.”

Indra purses her lips. “I am not a leader.”

“You are,” Clarke says, shaking her head. “Indra, you have their respect. Octavia had their fear and the Flame demanded their faith, but they… they look up to you.”

“I don’t want this,” Indra finally bites out.

Clarke smiles grimly, thinking of herself. “And that is exactly why you _should_ lead.”

Indra stays silent, then gives her a stiff nod. In a beat, she leaves Clarke alone. Almost. Bellamy settles in next to her. She’s not surprised exactly; he’s been dropping in on her more often than not. She would find it charming if he doesn’t have this haunted look in his eyes. She can tell he knows what happened after Praimfaya. She never did get to finish her story, but he must have been getting everyone else’s input. He’s been walking around her like she’ll up and disappear sometimes.

“You done for the day?” he asks.

Clarke exhales noisily. “Just about. For now.” Until something inevitably pops up. The Eligius prisoners aren’t even out of cryo yet and she’s not ready to deal with them without Diyoza. Maybe if Gabriel and Raven can figure out how to get this world’s Bellamy back, they can get Diyoza back too. _When_ , she corrects herself, _not if_. She can’t afford to think like that.

Bellamy nods then holds out his right hand. She looks at it, then up at him. His brown eyes are warm and soft. He says simply, “Come with me.”

“Where?” she asks, despite her instincts telling her to take his hand and follow him anywhere.

Bellamy shrugs. “I found a spot you might like.” He wiggles his fingers again and Clarke doesn’t hesitate this time. She slides her palm against his, threading their fingers together: a lover’s kiss.

The two suns are starting to set over the horizon—twice as golden, twice as bright. The light filters hazily through the atmosphere, smearing them in honey-gold and it strikes Clarke at how beautiful Sanctum is. For a second, she thinks peace can look like this.

Bellamy tugs on her hand and presses through some branches and the leaves caress her cheek as she walks by them. He stops and Clarke lifts her eyes to gape at the clearing that seems like it’s ripped out of a fairytale.

There’s a small pond just by the wayside, bluer than she’s ever seen. Creatures that look like birds flit in and about above them. Centered in the middle lays a blanket and fresh fruit, a book and a couple of pieces of paper strewed around.

“Bellamy,” she whispers, squeezing his hand. “This—this is _beautiful_.”

He smiles at the ground and leads her to the blanket. “I thought you deserved some nice and quiet time away from everyone.”

Unbidden, her eyes well up a little. It doesn’t even seem like a week ago she lost her body to someone else, like her family’s dwindled in size. No one else has asked. She just assumes that no one cared. This Bellamy wasn’t even here, but… he tried to make her feel better.

“Thank you,” she says, trying to imbue gratitude in every syllable.

She sits criss-crossed while Bellamy tucks one knee close to his chest and lets his other leg straighten out along the edge of the blanket. He grabs a fruit—which looks too purple to be an orange, but it functions like one—and peels away the skin. It smells wonderful. He hands her a slice and she brings it up to her lips. The first bite is sweet and just on the right side of tart and she moans a little at the taste.

Clarke doesn’t realize her eyes closed until she hears Bellamy shuffle. She finished chewing and grins, lazy and content. “I’ve never had that before.”

“It’s good, isn’t it.” Bellamy pops one in his mouth and hands her another piece. Their fingers brush and his touch sends her into a small frenzy.

They do that for a while, trading fruit, their hands sticky and sweet. Clarke grabs one of the stray papers and attempts to draw, but she puts it aside quickly. She just settles down and closes her eyes, letting the warmth seep down into her.

Bellamy grabs the book and starts reading silently. How he ever found a history book about dead Earth civilizations on another planet amazes her. She cracks her eyes open and stares at him with undisguised adoration. He might be Bellamy from a different world, but she has an inkling that their souls are made from the same stuff. Any Bellamy is her Bellamy and she is forever bound to him, just the same.

Both of his legs are splayed out and Clarke almost doesn’t move closer, but the temptation is too great. She rests her head on his thighs and she can feel his surprise, but she’s too happy to care.

“Read to me,” she says, closing her eyes once more. The suns are still in the sky, so they have an hour or so until the light disappears.

Bellamy clears his throat and, with one gentle hand, he cards his fingers through her hair. His voice is low and soft, “When the first Roman emperor Augustus…”

With his voice in her ears, the last of the afternoon suns slipping away, Clarke finally rests.

* * *

* * *

A few days later, Gabriel finally breaks and tells her that there’s no possible way for them to get Bellamy back with what little information they have.

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” he tells her. “The Anomaly has to show up for Bellamy again like it did with Octavia. We can’t risk going in there and getting stuck in a different world. We don’t know if we’ll end up where Bellamy is or worse. There’s nothing more we can do.”

Clarke’s vision blurs for a moment. She takes a step back and stumbles back into Bellamy’s chest. He keeps her steady, his large hands holding her arms. Her lips wobble and she turns around, burying her face into Bellamy’s shoulder.

Gabriel whispers one last sorry before he leaves. Bellamy wraps his arms around her, but everything feels cold. Despite the heat of his body and the two suns outside, she’s frozen.

She shakes minutely and Bellamy just holds her as she breaks. It takes her a second to realize his hands are trembling too. Clarke takes in one gasping breath and leans back, one hand curled into a fist near his chest.

“I… I can’t lose him,” she stutters out, taking her clenched fist away. It feels wrong to touch this Bellamy when the possibility of her Bellamy coming back had just died. “Not him. He saved me again and I can’t even—how do I bring him back?”

“Clarke,” Bellamy starts, but even the sound of his voice cleaves her heart in two. She steps away from him, shaking her head. He tries again, “Clarke, don’t just go—”

But Clarke has always been good at running away. Her tears fall and she swipes the sleeve of her jacket against her cheeks. And just like that, she leaves.

The second she stumbles into her room, she picks up the sketchbook she hasn’t touched in days. The pages feel thin and brittle in her hand, but she’s not sure if she’s projecting. She lands on her unfinished sketch and her fingers hover over it before she traces the lines she drew, almost as if she can will Bellamy into reality.

Her lungs are tight in her chest and she struggles to breathe normally. How many times does she have to lose him? Is it not enough that she can’t have him the way Echo does?

There’s a different Bellamy here in his place and Clarke wonders if the guilt will stop gnawing on her insides, a parasite she doesn’t know how to remove.

A knock sounds at her door.

She chokes out, “Be right there.”

Clarke stands, struggling to mask her inner turmoil. She opens the door and—

“Clarke,” Bellamy sighs. She doesn’t move even as he walks in, settling down on her bed. She still hasn’t moved her sketches. Clarke dry-swallows and closes the door. Bellamy picks up her sketchbook, his eyes roaming over his likeness.

She sits on the far end of her bed and looks at the window instead of him. It _aches_ to even glance at his profile. The light that filters in through the blinds is cold and paints a harsh picture on them, distant and lonely. Just two wayward souls reaching out for each other in the dark.

“You can’t just… run away,” he says, frustrated. “You can’t keep leaving me.”

“I left _you_?” Clarke blurts out. She wraps her arms across her chest, anger bubbling near the surface.

Bellamy’s jaw clenches and he sets her sketch down. “Yeah. Seems to be a running trait with you.”

“Well, excuse me for wanting to have a moment alone after figuring out my best friend is trapped in an alternate world.”

“You’re not the only one here with problems, princess.” He sneers, standing up. “I’m stuck here too and I don’t even wanna know what the hell he’s up to in _my_ world.”

“Shut up,” she bites back, offended on her Bellamy’s behalf. She gets off the bed too, just so he’s not looming over her. “He’ll try to do everything he can to save everyone.”

He laughs coldly. “Like that’s gonna work.”

“Leave him alone.”

“It’s not like he can hear us,” Bellamy says, shrugging.

Clarke grits her teeth and licks her lips. His eyes trace the movement and time slows momentarily. She crosses her arms again just to feel a modicum of control again.

“Why are you defending him anyway?” he says after a few seconds, eyes darting back up from her lips to her gaze. “He left you to die on Earth.”

“And I left him to die in the fighting pits. We make fucked up choices sometimes. Besides, I chose to stay.”

“To save him.”

Clarke stares at her feet. “Of course.”

Bellamy steps closer. She lifts her gaze to him and his eyes are dark, the slashes of light that peek through the blinds make him look like a mirage. If she couldn’t feel the heat radiating from his body, she’d think he was.

“Why?” he whispers.

“Because…” _he’s my best friend_ , she can say. But in the slants of light and dark, she wants to say the whole truth. So she does: “Because I would do anything for you.”

The words leave her raw and hollow.

Bellamy’s hand trails up her arm and settles against her cheek. His thumb rubs away a tear she didn’t know was there in the first place. He leans in and brushes his thumb against her bottom lip. “Clarke…”

It’s a question. She nods imperceptibly. His breath washes over her and her eyes flutter shut. Before their lips can meet, Madi walks in.

They break apart and time moves normal once more.

Madi furrows her brows. “Did I… interrupt something?”

“No,” she says, her voice a little too rough. She clears her throat and repeats, “No, it’s—we’re just discussing the Anomaly. What’s up, Madi?”

“There was an accident with some of the Children of Gabriel and the people of Sanctum. Jackson has his hands full and he needs more doctors and nobody in Sanctum will give them treatment unless they pardon Russell.”

Clarke sighs. Bellamy rubs a hand across his face and she looks away before he sees her staring at him.

“I’ll be right there,” Clarke says.

Madi runs back to tell Jackson and Bellamy just licks his lips.

“Guess I’ll see you later.”

Clarke nods and squeaks out, “Yeah. I’ll just, uh, go.”

She doesn’t hear if Bellamy responds. She takes off after Madi, her mind full of Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy…

* * *

* * *

Clarke avoids Bellamy the next day.

She’s not doing it on purpose, at least for the first few hours. After tending to some pretty serious wounds, Clarke knocked out the second her head touched the pillow. She wakes up groggy and still tired despite the suns shining bright, telling her she’s overslept. Her body aches and her neck twinges from standing too long.

It doesn’t take long until somebody finds her. It’s Emori this time. She’s been helping keep the people of Sanctum under control with Murphy. They still believe they’re Primes, so their word is law. For now. They’re not exactly subtle in their affections and they can only keep it hidden for so long until somebody catches them. Clarke can’t blame them. She’s spent far too long hating herself for being weak, she’d showcase it to the world too.

Which is exactly what happens because, of course, things never run smoothly. Not for Clarke and not in this world.

This new problem occupies her for the time being. If she thinks about her almost-kiss with Bellamy, she might as well collapse on the spot.

She meets Murphy in front of the building they’ve locked Russell in. He’s frowning, eyes darting toward Emori. She holds out her hand and he takes it easily. Clarke watches them with softer eyes. She says, “So the secret’s out.”

Murphy brings Emori in closer. “Yup.”

“Great.”

“Isn’t it just?” he teases wryly. He gives Emori a squeeze. “I kinda liked the whole queen vibe you had going on.”

Emori smirks. “So did I.”

”C’mon,” Clarke smiles, shaking her head. “Let's find a new prison for him and get you two safe.”

They’ve been staying at the palace to keep up with their Prime image, but who knows what’ll happen if they stay there. She motions Miller and Niylah to come over.

“I need you to put Russell in cryo,” she says once they’re near. “He’s smart and grieving and any second longer where he’s near his people, he can use them to his advantage.”

“The Eligius crew is still in cryo too,” Niylah points out.

Clarke shakes her head. “I’ll figure that out for another day. Just take shifts over watching the ship. People you trust. Until I know this planet won’t rip itself apart, I’ll keep them there for the time being.”

Before they leave, Miller places his hand on her shoulder. She shoots him an inquisitive look.

“Bellamy’s wondering where you are,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “He asked me if I saw you first to tell you that he’ll meet you at the clearing when you’re free. Whatever that means.”

Heat rushes to her face. “I, uh—okay.”

“Okay.” Miller almost grins at her. “I’ll grab Russell and head out after dark.”

With that, he jogs after Niylah. Clarke turns back towards Emori and Murphy.

“What clearing?” Murphy asks lightly.

“Nothing,” she says quickly. “It’s… nothing. Let’s just move you out to the old Earth house Russell kept. It’s safe there. I don’t even think anyone knows it exists.”

Murphy follows her lead. “And how do you know?”

“I had Josephine stuck in my head. Remember that?” Clarke says dryly. Unconsciously, she touches the back of her neck where the scar is still healing.

He doesn’t say a word. The three of them walk silently to the house. Old isn’t exactly the best descriptor. It’s shiny and new, but Clarke always associates everything before the bombs _old_.

A few minutes into the silence, Murphy breaks. “I’m still sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, Murphy, I—”

“It’s not.” He grabs her wrist and Clarke sees the regret in his eyes. “It’s really fucking not, Clarke. You _died_.”

“Murphy…” she starts, then sighs. “I already forgave you.”

And she did. Betrayals hurt less the more she expects it. It’s not as though she’s free of sin too. Her hands have been stained with blood for so long, she thinks it’s part of her skin now.

Murphy opens his mouth, but Emori tugs his arm.

“It’s okay, John,” she whispers. “She’s okay.”

“You should listen to her, you know,” Clarke says, climbing up the stairs. “She’s right. I’m… I’m okay.”

Not perfect, not great, not even good. She’s just fine. She lost her mom, almost lost her child, basically lost her best friend and she almost died herself, but loss is just another burden to bear. She can handle it. Clarke opens the door and welcomes them in.

“I can stay here if you need help cleaning,” Clarke offers, looking at the dust.

“Isn’t Bellamy waiting for you?” Emori asks.

Clarke stills. She was hoping they would have forgotten about that little piece of information. It’s not that she _doesn’t_ want to see Bellamy, it’s just he’s still from a different world and she’s practically in love with _her_ Bellamy and—

Her thoughts whir to a stop. She loves two versions of the same man and she’s feeling guilty about it. She’s completely lost it. This is her life.

“I… yeah. I guess I’ll get going.” Clarke stands in front of the door for a second then leaves.

She takes the long way back to the palace and hesitates before retracing her steps to the clearing. She wonders if she pretends to get lost, that Bellamy will forgive her for leaving him. But she’s left Bellamy too many times now and her mind is sharp and she remembers everything about that day—down to the soft scratch of Bellamy’s pants on her cheek and the lingering smell of fruit on his fingers.

Clarke spots the barely visible path leading to Bellamy and she takes in a deep breath before heading through the greenery. Bellamy’s laying down on the blanket, eyes closed, his face turning golden-brown under the sun. She almost stumbles.

She can tell he knows she’s here. It’s not like she’s trying to sneak around, but there’s a gentle sort of calm on his face and he doesn’t bother to open his eyes. Not until she greets him softly, tucking her knees underneath herself and resting one hand on his chest. She says softly, “Hey.”

Bellamy grins, eyes fluttering open. She can’t help but remember a different Bellamy, a different setting, just a few weeks ago. She aches for him just as she does this Bellamy. But the Bellamy she lost was dating Echo and this Bellamy… he’s hers in ways she never thought could ever happen. His hand comes up to grab hers and he presses his lips to her knuckles.

“Hey,” he says, placing their entwined hands over his heart.

“Bellamy,” she starts, but can’t find the words she wants to say. She doesn’t even _know_ what to say.

He sits up and she lets her hand fall to his lap. He tilts her chin up with his hand and smiles. “I know.”

“God, but I don’t,” she says, a little too frustrated. “Bellamy, I… I don’t know what we’re even doing here.”

“It’s weird, trust me. I wasn’t exactly expecting to get dropped in a different world, but if I’m gonna stay here… I want to be here with you.” His thumb traces her bottom lip. “I don’t know if I’ll be here for two days or two years but Clarke—”

Her breath hitches.

“—let me have this. As long as I can.”

She leans forward and their lips barely graze one another. She whispers, “Okay.”

And that’s all Bellamy needs to capture her mouth with his. She gasps into his lips and he swallows every one of her reactions. One of her arms comes up and settles on his shoulders, her hand buried in his curls. He’s warm and he tastes like sunshine and honey and she just can’t get enough of him.

Bellamy sighs into her mouth, nipping at her bottom lip. She straddles him in a quick movement. His hands grip at her hips and he moans a little into her mouth.

He slows down and takes his time to make her sigh happily into him. She pouts when he breaks away and he chuckles before pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips, down her cheeks to her neck. She tilts her head and lets him rain kisses down the column of her throat. Clarke hums and leans back in to find his lips again.

They stay like that, lazily making out underneath the suns.

“Stay with me,” she murmurs against his mouth, a desperate plea to him—to the universe. He smiles a little sadly into their kiss and says nothing. Melancholy taints their tongues, but he kisses it away and she falls deeper into his embrace.

Clarke thinks about that for the rest of the day and long into the night.

* * *

* * *

Their relationship balances on a tightrope.

One wrong move and they’ll both tumble into the unknown. They don’t talk about the Anomaly or of her Bellamy despite her missing him like someone took a rib from her body and turned it into dust. They don’t talk about if Bellamy misses his Clarke, his world. They keep to themselves. It’s like they exist only in the dark corners of her bedroom, or in the clearing and the secret tunnels he found in the palace.

She’s dreamed about having Bellamy like this for years and it still feels too fragile to the touch.

A week passes by in a haze of stolen kisses and she maybe believes she can stop worrying herself to tears about everything. It’s dark out and Clarke goes to meet Bellamy at his door.

She doesn’t bother to knock and heads straight in. Bellamy’s lacing up his boots and Clarke raises her brow.

“I didn’t know we were going somewhere,” she says.

Bellamy gives her a tight grin. “I thought… I don’t know, maybe we can see the Anomaly one last time.”

Clarke’s throat thickens and she wants to say no, but Bellamy looks haggard and in need for some semblance of closure. She supposes she needs some too. She nods and he takes her hand in a swift movement before they trek down to where the Anomaly is usually spotted.

It’s not hard to miss the aurora of green, its noise bursting her eardrums the moment they press closer. Clarke treads on, but Bellamy’s grip on her slackens.

His eyes are fixated on the Anomaly and he reaches out, as if touching someone. He steps towards it, away from her, but she grabs at his shirt, panicked. Octavia’s words rush by her: _She thought she saw Hope and she ran into it._

 _No_ , she thinks desperately. She says aloud, voice wobbling, _“Bellamy.”_

He doesn’t hear her. The green light _beckons_ him. She can’t—fuck, he can’t leave her. Not like this. She finally knew what joy tastes like and it’s slipping away from her.

“Bellamy,” she tries again, fingers scrabbling at his skin. He looks back and his eyes shine. “Please…”

He kisses her lips and leans his forehead against hers. Tears fall from her eyes, mirroring him.

“It’s, it’s _calling_ to me, Clarke,” he says. His brown eyes reflect green back at her and she’s never hated a color more in her life. She misses brown, the shade when the suns hit his eyes right and they turn liquid and soft. “I have to go home.”

She just trembles against him.

“I love you, Clarke.” He thumbs away her tears. “In every timeline and in every world.”

“Don’t go, _please_ ,” Clarke begs him. Love and grief swirl in her chest like one entity. Maybe they are. Maybe the only thing keeping them from burying her alive is the hope that binds them together.

He just presses his lips to her temple and walks back. Clarke can’t look. She can’t watch him leave her. In a second, she collapses on her knees, not even bothering to care as the pain hits her. Her fingers sink into the ground below and she cries out his name into the dirt, her chest heaving and stuttering and gasping for air. She can’t breathe, she can’t, she—

Hands settle on her shoulders.

She blinks and the world is blurry and for a moment, she thinks she hallucinated everything. But her vision clears and Clarke’s breath slams back into her chest.

 _Bellamy_.

But this is _her_ Bellamy. He kneels in front of her, the space between his browns pinched with concern. His voice filters in through her ears, “—arke, hey, it’s okay. I’m here. Clarke, breathe with me. Just look at me. I’m here. C’mon, baby, just breathe with me, please.”

She inhales, shuddering with it, and exhales when he does.

“That’s it, just copy me, okay? I’m here, Clarke. I’m so sorry. I’m here, I’m here,” he says. She just breathes. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Repeat. Her clenched fingers slowly detach from the ground. He takes her hands and wipes off the dirt with deft strokes. Her body shivers and he tucks her hair back behind her face.

“Bellamy?” she finally says, her trembling fingers brushing against his cheek, his beard scratching softly against her touch. She chokes out a sob and throws herself in his arms. _“Bellamy.”_

“Hey, Clarke,” he says, relieved. He buries his nose into her neck and laughs. “I’ve missed you.”

She laughs too, a little wetly. She breathes him in. He smells the same—like sunshine and honey and _home_. “I’ve missed you, too. So damn much.” She clutches at him like he’ll disappear the moment she lets go. A part of her fears that he might. Considering her luck with the universe, her fears are founded in truths. Clarke pleads, “Stay with me.”

“Always,” he says easily, as if there is no other answer possible. “I’m not letting you go any time soon.”

Amidst the loud roar of the Anomaly, Clarke finds peace.

* * *

* * *

Clarke makes it to Sanctum, just near her room, before her legs weaken. The weight of every stress she’s tried to bury pulls her down, but Bellamy simply carries her home.

She shucks off her clothes, lacking any grace. Bellamy hands her a glass of water and she just sips at it before setting it on her side table.

He looks ready to leave, but she pleads, her voice rough, “Stay.”

Clarke wants to keep him before everyone else has him in the morning.

“Always,” he says again, softening. He takes off his jacket and throws it over her dresser. He toes off his boots too and moves to bring a chair closer. She shakes her head. She knows… she knows that Bellamy’s still dating Echo, but she _needs_ him. Maybe Echo will forgive her for this.

“No, I mean—with me.”

Bellamy stops moving the chair and sets it down. “You sure?”

She nods and scoots closer to the window, leaving space for him. Bellamy takes a moment, then slides in next to her on his back, one arm beneath his head. She’s laying on her side and apparently he can feel her gaze because he turns towards her.

“How long has it been for you?” Clarke asks. She wants to reach out and hold him, but this isn’t the Bellamy she’s kissed.

“Four months.” Bellamy’s lips thin. “I was back on Earth before—”

“Praimfaya,” she finishes, just as he does. He doesn’t look too surprised.

“So he came here?” She nods. “Figures. Well, I couldn’t stop the radiation from leaking, but… I saved you. I got Madi to hide in the Bunker with her parents and I told Octavia what would happen, and I saved _you_.”

His voice catches on the word. She finds his hand in the dark and clasps it, bringing up to her chest. He squeezes her lightly.

“You made it to space,” he says, smiling. “I wasn’t gonna leave you behind again. Not when I knew what would happen.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“It’s what I should’ve done in the first place.” He waves her off, but she leans on one elbow, giving him a firm look.

“I was proud of you for leaving me, you know,” she confesses. “The first time around. And I’m proud of you now, Bellamy.”

He closes his eyes.

“So what’d you do in space?” she asks. “Again.”

For such a simple question, Bellamy’s eyes snap open. He clears his throat and stares up at the ceiling instead of her and Clarke is curious enough to question him again.

“Bellamy?”

“I, uh,” he starts, looking embarrassed. “I re-read some books, trained. Helped Raven with repairs.”

Clarke jostles him. “You’re hiding something from me.”

“I might’ve… kissed you. Alternate you,” he finally blurts out. The words finally process in her mind and she giggles. He sits up against the headboard and rolls his eyes. “Laugh it up.”

“No, no,” she tries to say, her giggles leaving her lips. “I just thought you’re still dating Echo.”

He furrows his brow. “We broke up way before the Anomaly took me.”

“Really?” Clarke’s chuckles fade out and her eyes widen.

“I wasn’t gonna kiss a version of you if I wasn’t single, Clarke,” he says and she feels hope creeping back into her veins. She sits on her knees and faces him.

She feels brave here. Her best friend just admitted he kissed her and a different Bellamy’s words come to mind.

_I love you, Clarke. In every timeline and in every world._

Maybe, he wasn’t lying.

“You know,” she teases, just a touch hesitant, “I kissed you too. The alternate you.”

Bellamy’s eyes darken. “You did?”

His voice is deeper than usual and Clarke doesn’t fight the urge to settle herself on his lap. She tugs at his hair, longer than she’s used to and smiles. He leans into her touch and his beard scrapes at her skin. He’s still as handsome as ever. She doesn’t think she’ll ever think of him in any other way.

“Uh huh.” She leans in closer and Bellamy’s arms wrap around her waist, pulling her in. He’s bigger too, she realizes with a grin. She whispers just as her lips hover over his, “Hey, Bellamy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you kiss me?” Clarke asks, softer this time, less teasing. Her heart is steady and her hands don’t shake. She knows what she wants and she’s not afraid.

Bellamy whispers back, “Always.”

The way he catches her mouth with his is gentle, but firm. He knows what he wants too and he’s not afraid either. Her body eases into his and he smiles into their kiss.

He kisses her like he’s coming home.

Clarke hums happily into his lips. She leans back and they both just fall into each other. His hand rubs at her back and she closes her eyes, tired and sated and loved.

“C’mon,” Bellamy says into her temple. “Sleep. We’ll deal with everything in the morning.”

She shuffles down under her covers, resting her head in his heart. He cards his fingers through her hair and it doesn’t take her long till she sleeps.

**Author's Note:**

> jason rothenburg enraged me to the point of literacy. anyways, hope you enjoyed !!!! find me on [tumblr](http://the1oo.tumblr.com/) while i rage-cry about bellarke


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